


Peter Almost Pasta Away From Embarrassment

by FictionalWorldsAreExquisite



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Humor, i THINK i gave peter anxiety accidentally is what i mean, i'm so glad that's a tag., this fic is so dumb lmao enjoy, those tags were looking too normal for the disaster that is this fic. that's better, to be fair you'd probably assume it's a disaster from the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalWorldsAreExquisite/pseuds/FictionalWorldsAreExquisite
Summary: Peter is having dinner with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark for the first time when he accidentally drops a piece of lasagna on him. What does he do?
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106





	Peter Almost Pasta Away From Embarrassment

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say that I appreciate any and all comments and I read each of them almost immediately after you leave them (unless I'm asleep or busy) but I sometimes take a few days to reply and that's just cause my body likes to make me not feel well a lot but! I have some comments to reply to and I'm getting there either right after posting this or tomorrow morning since it's gotten late. I feel very motivated every time I see a comment so thank you.
> 
> Also I've been in a mood and struggling to write anything like I rlly just keep writing a few hundred words then deleting it but I wrote this! Finally pushed through the mood. I think even if this is a more basic fic, it's good to just finally write a whole thing after you've been struggling to (also it's so fucking dumb it made me almost laugh). I have a chapter fic kinda started for that About Peter series too, I'll just see if it works out or not. I mean I have two chapters written but I wanted to do a 5+1 sort of thing so I want to at least have ideas for all the current blanks.

Peter was absolutely mortified. He was eating dinner with _the_ Pepper Potts and Tony Stark was there too. Not that he wasn’t cool as well, it’s just, he’d seen him argue with FRIDAY, telling her to open up ‘the door’ for a solid ten minutes before Peter stepped in and explained that he was actually standing in front of a wall, just last week. So a bit of the awe factor had worn off.

But the point was, he’d just dropped a large piece of lasagna right onto his lap. It fell off his fork and before even his spider-sense could save him, it splattered onto his lap, hitting both the bottom of his shirt and his pants. His shirt was a pale blue and that red tomato sauce would definitely stain it but he was thankfully wearing black jeans so he was half saved.

He looked back up quickly and noted that Mr. Stark and Miss Potts were too busy smiling lovingly at each other to notice what had just happened. Any other time, he might’ve melted a little or felt like he’d sat down at the wrong table because woah, this bordered on interrupting a romantic dinner, but right now he had a fucking problem.

He stabbed another piece of pasta quickly, picking up some mince with it so they didn’t see him sitting there frozen and get suspicious. He just had to keep acting normally and figure this the hell out, and fast. He watched every single tiny bit of food on his fork to make sure it was balanced before he dared bring it over to his mouth. He also leaned forward further so his mouth was basically over his plate and there was a much less falling danger zone. Sit up straight, they said, it’s proper, they said, get lasagna on your lap because of it, they didn’t say.

Peter considered his options. He could pick the piece of pasta up and laugh it off, embarrassed, ask for a cloth to sponge his shirt so it didn’t stain and dinner could continue. It happened to everyone, no big deal. But as he looked back at Miss Potts and Mr Stark, he suddenly wasn’t sure that it did happen to them. Mr. Stark maybe when he was sleep deprived like last week but Miss Potts? No way. Some sort of godly interference would happen if she even came close to dropping food on herself.

Okay, so option number one was out. He could...cut himself slightly and bleed a bit and act like the red on his shirt was blood and drop kick the pasta out of the room when they got distracted by everything else that was happening to him. Therefore there’d be no signs of dropping food off the fork, just injury. But no, that was stupid, what if they found the pasta eventually stuck on a wall or something? He’d have to fake his own death. Plus, he didn’t have anything sharp.

Option number two was declared stupid. Maybe he could wiggle until the pasta fell off him onto the floor, clean his shirt with his fingers as best as possible, wiping the sauce on his black jeans where it wouldn’t be seen, tuck the shirt into his pants and hope the red was hidden in there. Frankly, though, he wasn’t sure if he could tuck that shirt into those pants under normal circumstances, nevermind trying to do it secretly while sitting down and not drawing attention to himself. Plus, again, what if they found the pasta directly under his chair? How would he explain that?

So option number three was unrealistic. Option number four was to just never leave the table ever and therefore no one would ever see his shirt. The downside was though, he’d die eventually and when they collected his body, they’d see it. The little piece of pasta that had led to his death. Mr. Stark certainly couldn’t remove him from his chair because he was stronger but he could move the whole chair and reveal the horrible stain with the oh-so-delicious tiny pasta culprit. That would potentially be worse than just being upfront about it.

Maybe, just maybe, if he ran screaming from the room towards the bathroom, making sure his back was to them at all times, they wouldn’t follow and wouldn’t question it. Okay, maybe he’d have to drop the screaming part, but hopefully, they’d just think the worst and think the food went straight through...oh, that wasn’t better. He could excuse himself to the bathroom in a normal fashion and just walk around them with his back to them though? But, shit. He still had the tiny bit of pasta to dispose of. If that fell off mid-escape, he’d have to run right past the bathroom and out the nearest window and not stop running until he was out of New York City, maybe until he was hiding on a farm somewhere. He’d have to ditch his phone and all other possible location trackers though.

He’d lost track of what option he was up to at this point but really, he could only see one other way out. Finish the meal normally and be the last to leave the table because...because he had to sit for a while after eating, yeah. Digestion! And all that. Then he’d slip off to the bathroom, flush the evidence down the toilet, sponge his shirt and ah, fuck...there’d still be a wet spot. It’d take too long for it to dry. Well, shit. 

What on earth was Peter going to do now?

“Peter!” Tony sounded like he’d been trying to get Peter’s attention for ages which made sense since he may have zoned out a few options back. He was looming over him, staring down at him, Peter hadn’t even realised he was there. Looking back, he wished he’d reacted by clearing his throat, saying, ‘sorry, Mr. Stark! Zoned out there. I’m back. By the way, don’t look down at my lap! That’d be weird, haha!’

How Peter actually reacted was half screaming, the sound caught in his throat as he started to cough from choking on his own saliva, and jumping directly upwards out of his chair. The good part was, he didn’t knock his head against Mr. Stark’s. That would’ve been bad. The bad part was, he managed to _propel_ the pasta on his lap _directly upwards_ so it splattered against Tony’s forehead and as Tony straightened up in surprise, it started slowly sliding down his face leaving a trail of sauce.

Oh god, Peter had just lap pasta’d Mr. Stark right in the face! This time he actually screamed as he scrambled away from his seat and sprinted for the elevator. “FRIDAY, down! I need to leave! Please get the elevator here immediately!”

“Boss has asked me to keep you on this floor, Peter.” FRIDAY almost sounded apologetic.

Peter glanced at the windows. Fuck his secret identity, he could climb down the side of the tower and wrap his shirt around his face to try to cover it at least. He started to run in that direction before he felt his arm being grabbed and he gulped. He turned around hesitantly and met his mentor’s blank stare. The only thought going through his mind was oh _shit_.

Mr. Stark started to lead him back to the table and he let himself be dragged, knowing that this was it, if his mentor chose to kill him, then he’d accept it. Don’t arrest Mr. Stark, Peter was the one that messed up and deserved it.

Except when they reentered the dining room, he saw Miss Potts laughing so hard, she had tears streaming down her face, hands clutching her stomach. Maybe...that was a good sign? He smiled slightly at her before dropping the smile completely when he remembered that Mr. Stark was still right next to him. “I can explain!”

His mentor leaned against the table, crossing his arms, tomato sauce still very present on his face, “please do.”

And so Peter did, he explained what had happened, all the options he’d considered and why he’d decided each wouldn’t work up until the part where he’d zoned back in to Mr. Stark standing over him, he trailed off at the lap pasta’d description when he remembered that his mentor definitely witnessed and remembered that.

At some point during his storytelling, Miss Potts had excused herself from the room claiming she was going to pass out if she kept laughing, swiping a few tissues to wipe her eyes on the way out, her laughter still easily heard as she made her way down the hall.

Even Mr. Stark had cracked at some point and was unable to keep a blank face on, mouth twitching upwards at the sides. “I’m refusing to laugh but God, kid, I’m close to losing it. Please, for the love of God, just pick it up and ask for a cloth next time. It has happened to Pepper, it has happened to me, it will continue to happen to everyone in the world, just...go sponge your shirt, I need to go make sure my partner hasn’t passed out.”

Peter nodded rapidly, “of course, Mr. Stark! Will do!” This clearly meant he was getting out of the situation with his life. As Mr. Stark left the room, he heard him chuckling as he walked down the hall. He probably wasn’t meant to hear it but, well, he had enhanced hearing. He smiled a bit to himself. Maybe it was a little funny.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this whole ass disaster. As someone with anxiety this fic is indeed absolutely me in that situation (well i'd like to think i wouldn't fucking propel the pasta into someone's face but who knows). i think i just accidentally gave peter anxiety. i didn't even realise until writing this end note. this is probably not how people without anxiety react. SORRY PETER.
> 
> i think i make peter swear a lot in his mind but it's...very characteristic of teenagers to be fair. 
> 
> tumblr is fictional-worlds-are-exquisite


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